Lovehammer: The Extras
by Lovehammer Inc
Summary: And here are the pieces by various authors that can fit in many continuities.
1. DarkBlade: A Light in the Dark

{oOo}

While all the Primarch's loved their sister, Konrad Curze, also known as the "Night Haunter", Primarch of the Night Lords legion, was utterly devoted to her. How could he be otherwise, when it was she who had saved not only his life but also his very soul.

"_The Searchers in the Darkness" A history of the Night Lords Legion, by the remembrance Dovan Kaas._

{oOo}

The first recording of the child that would come to be known as Konrad Curze, after the Chaos Gods scattered the infant Primarch and his brothers across the stars, was as a flaming meteor that crashed through the surface and into the core of the night-shrouded world of Nostramo. While Nostramo was a highly industrialized world, its crust bearing high quantities of the mineral adamantium, providing the basis of an immense mining and purification industry, the vast majority of the planet's population lived in abject poverty. Millions toiled in the mines in often-horrific conditions while the small ruling elite grew in affluence, exploiting the already downtrodden workers. Crime ran mostly unchecked, depression was inescapable, and overpopulation was kept in check more by suicide than by any other measure.

Unlike many of the other Primarchs, Konrad Curze was not fortunate enough to be taken in by any family. Instead like his Brother Lion El'Jonson he was forced to raise himself. His early life was spent surviving off his wits and determination, feeding himself by hunting the feral animals that roamed through the vast city of Nostramo Quintus. During this time he was continually plagued by visions of the darkest possible future, horrifyingly potent waking nightmares. These unrelenting visions twisted and shaped his character, the casual viciousness and unbridled savagery that he would become known for in combat a direct result of this time of his life. Yet at the same time the young Primarch was possessed of a strong instinctive sense of right and wrong. He looked out at the world around him, at the huddled masses of Nostramo's common citizenry and the way they were viciously preyed upon both by the numerous criminal gangs that existed in every level of the city and by the servants of the ruling elite who were little better than the gangs themselves.

As he grew into adulthood watching and observing the injustice in Nostramo's society Curze instinctively understood that something needed to be done to stop it. Unfortunately the darkness of his nightmares twisted the way he was to act on his feelings, the conflicts in his nature pushed Curze into achieving this aim through an increasingly vicious and destructive cycle of persecution and murder, focused on the criminal elements of Nostramo's society. His vigilante actions began small, intervening when he witnessed something he believed to be wrong, but rapidly escalating into hunting down those he believed had committed transgressions. It was only a logical progression that he would eventually move on to the ones who had ordered those transgressions and then steadily move up through those they in turn served.

At first, several people prominent within the city's corrupt hierarchy disappeared. Leaders of the most violent opposition to the status quo vanished in similar circumstances. Bodies of known criminals began to appear, gutted like fish by some cruel assailant. Corrupt officials were found hung from high windows. The body parts of known thugs and murderers blocked storm water drains. As for known rapists or sexual predators among the ruling elite, many of the corpses found were so horribly beaten and mutilated by their assailant that identification was impossible.

Within the year, the crime rate of Nostramo Quintus fell to near-zero. Society underwent massive changes, laws that were once little more than writing on ancient tomes and vid-slates were now enforced near religiously. More interestingly a series of unwritten but universal rules began to be followed by the populace, the most notable of which was the self-imposed curfew that came into being. Mothers began to threaten children that if they continued to misbehave, the Night Haunter would come for them. This term quickly came into common usage, describing a dark creature that stalked the city, ready to disembowel anyone it believed to be a criminal or heretic with dirty, razor-sharp talons.

As the crime rate dropped and fear of the Night Haunter caused the remains of the Ruling classes and the criminal gangs to curb the worst of their excesses the young Primarch saw hope for the inhabitants of his world. He had become the only object of fear and hate within the city. It was time for him to finally step out of the shadows he had lived in his entire life.

He chose his first public appearance to take place during a meeting of nobles that had survived his vigilante purge. A meeting ironically enough that had been called to discuss what to do about the Night Haunter. His appearance was met with consternation and confusion, and caused no few of the elderly nobles to expire from the sheer shock of seeing the now legendary vigilante in person.

Night Haunter became the first monarch of Nostramo Quintus by the unanimous acclamation of the surviving nobles. He assimilated knowledge almost greedily, and to the great surprise of all became considered a fair and temperate ruler. New laws were introduced and enforced that restructured much of Nostramo's society. The bounty of the planets massive industry began to be shared more evenly among its populace. The standard of living of the common citizen started to rise. Initially this form of governance caused several factions among the old ruling class to question if their new ruler was indeed the feared Night Haunter of legend. Many started to whisper about disposing him and making a return to the old ways. Several even started to fall back into their old habits in quiet corners of the city. This only lasted was word of such injustice reached the Night Haunters ears. He would then hunt the guilty through the streets, wearing them down before then killing and mutilating them. Leaving the mutilated corpses hanging in a public place for all to see as a warning.

This unpredictable pattern of benevolent wisdom and hideous vengeance ushered in a new level of efficiency and honesty. Other cities around the planet followed suit, in an attempt to keep the Night Haunter from their doors. Until quickly the Primarch found himself the ruler of a confederation of cities that encompassed the whole of the planet Nostramo.

Yet a bare few years into his reign officials noted that their leader often seemed distracted and preoccupied. On several occasions he could be seen staring up at the black clouds that shrouded the planet in near constant darkness. Unknown to them Night Haunter knew an event was coming that he had long forseen. The coming of the Emperor of Man was an event that had been prophesied in Nostramo's history; an event that, it was said, lead to the planet's downfall. Yet when that event came it was to the Primarch's great surprise and eventual joy that it was nothing like what he had forseen.

In his visions Night Haunter had long known how the arrival of the Emperor would unfold. A great fleet of his father's ships would appear in orbit of the world, hidden from the view of the inhabitants by the great dark clouds that constantly shrouded the planet. The Emperor would then land a series of ships on Nostramo, whereupon would then lead a delegation to the centre of Nostramo Quintus on foot. The citizens of Nostramo, adapted as they were to the near-constant darkness of their world, would not be able to look upon the radiance of the Emperor. Some would weep as the healing light he projected reflected off the rain slicked streets into their faces. Those brave enough to look upon him directly would be blinded. To the citizens of this dark and downtrodden world the light of the Father of Mankind was too bright, too fierce for them. Like a fire to those who had only known dark and cold, from a distance it brought warmth and light, but to those who came too close it could hurt, burn and consume.

Just so did Konrad Curze, who at that time did not know himself by that name but only as the Night Haunter, expect to be burnt and consumed by his father's radiance. Nevertheless when word came to him of strangers never before seen making their way through the city he stood at the end of the broad road leading to Night Haunter's palace, waiting for the delegation to approach. Waiting to meet his fate. Yet as the first signs of their approach appeared it became clear that something was amiss.

A light was making its way slowly through the twisting streets up the road towards him. Yet this light was not the burning golden radiance he had expected of his father's approach. It was a silver glow that illuminated the darkness without dispersing it. While the light of the Emperor would have brought pain to those so used to living in darkness, this light brought the promise of something more. It brought clarity, showing what existed within the dark without driving it away. It brought warmth, a feeling that spread through the bodies of all that were illuminated by it without burning or consuming. It brought hope illuminating the world around them through the darkness that they had become so used to in their lives. Showing the path, the potential of something more.

Night Haunter stood transfixed as the procession made its way towards him. At its back, even through the unfamiliar silver light that grew brighter as it approached he could clearly see a mass of people. It seemed like the entire population of Nostramo Quintus had filled the streets behind the advancing group. Yet there was no undercurrent of violence, always so close to the surface when a mass of humanity gathers. Rather the entire population appeared docile, calm content to quietly follow and gaze in awe at the source of the shining light that lead them.

Some might had attributed this to the massive figures that stood around the lights source. While a full head shorter than the Night Haunters superhuman frame they nevertheless stood more than head and shoulders above the citizens of Nostramo that milled around them. Night Haunter recognized these figures from his visions. Their tall forms clad in ornate golden armor with high brazen helms, in their hands they carried long ornate pole-arms while blood red cloaks hung from their backs. He knew these were the personal guards of his father yet his father was obviously not here, who, then were they guarding?

As he turned his attention towards the source of the light his saw other figures, these all unfamiliar. The figures were all women, some clad in formfitting suits of silver armor, others in long white robes or other garments trimmed in silver. They filled the centre of the formation around the figure that led them but within the protection of the Emperors guardians. Yet there were other figures there to. Small forms that ran and capered among the women or walked placidly at their sides holding their hands. Night Haunter's brow furrowed in confusion as he realized that the small forms were children. Moreover from their dress they were from all levels of Nostramo's society. Street rats clad in rags and tattered shifts ran laughing and playing or grasped the arm of a while adorned woman opposite noble brats in their finery. Unnerved by the display of innocents at play, something he had seen so rarely in his life the Night Haunter finally turned his attention to the figure that lead the procession that approached him. The source of the silver light. As he did he was left gaping for perhaps the first time in his life.

The figure was a woman. A woman with long blonde hair that hung in two long braids down either side of her head. She was clad in form fitting white robes. In one arm she cradled a small child who's rags identified it as a gutter rat. By her side holding her hand stood a young female nobles child. Beside the giants that stood protectively around the group she was a tiny thing. Even a number of the other women that stood around her appeared to be taller. Yet at the same time she radiated such presence that it was impossible to miss her. She was the source of the sliver luminescence that now lit the ever present darkness around them. Yet while in his visions the light of the Emperor had been a harsh burning thing, hers was gentle. Its silvery glow light a breath of clean fresh air across the skin of all around her. It radiated a feeling of peace and security. Yet at the same time the light showed the squalor and the decrepit nature of the world around them. However strangely this did not invoke and feeling of depression or despair. Instead it seemed to imbue all it touched with a feeling, a question. "Why do we settle for this? We can make it better."

Night Haunters mind was a whirl as unfamiliar feelings and emotions surged through him for the first time in his life. Yet these feelings were nothing to another that suddenly overcame him as the silver figure drew closer and the light she projected for the first time reached out to encompass the Primarch. Gasping he bent over, nearly falling to his knees as he suddenly felt like a great weight, one that he had labored under for his entire life disappeared. The pressure on his mind, that which brought the horrible visions and waking nightmares, that he had lived with as long as he could remember was suddenly gone. For the first time ever when he turned his mind to the future his thoughts were no longer filled with never ending scenes of ever escalating violence that only ceased with his own inevitable death. For the first time the future showed possibilities. Paths he had never seen before. Never even contemplated. Confused yet elated his eyes sought out the woman whose presence seemed to have caused such an unprecedented event to occur. This time when he locked eyes with her what he saw brought him to his knees.

Before Night Haunters eyes the woman observed his fall with alarm. Quickly passing the children on to one of the other women that surrounded her she started to rapidly make her way towards him. Several of the custodians desperately following after in vain effort to catch their charge. But Night Haunter paid no attention to the events before him, his full attention was on the vision that had appeared before him the moment he locked eyes with the woman. He saw Nostramo but the planet was barely recognizable. Cities of tall gleaming silver towers dotted the planets surface. Its inhabitants went about their business under the illumination of soft silver light from the moons above them. The people appeared healthy, prosperous. They moved with purpose and intensity as they went about their lives. He saw other visions of himself standing alongside twenty other figures with whom he felt a sense of kinship while before them stood the radiant figure of the Emperor, the silver lady at his side. He saw himself leading warriors armed in hulking suites of midnight blue armor with highlights of purple lightning into war. Again he felt a deep kinship with the men he led. Together they fought over battlefields too numerous to count. Causing fear throughout the ranks of their enemies. Yet always that fear was focused to a purpose. A target a goal. To cause the enemy to break and run, to make mistakes to sap their will to fight. Ultimately to bring the battles to a swifter conclusion. He saw himself standing in a great hall a gathering of dignitaries around him as they looked out over a ruined and devastated city. Yet even as they watched men and machines toiled like ants rebuilding and restoring what had been damaged or destroyed and he knew that he was assisting those others, many of whom were women in silver and white, helping them not to remake what had been brought down but to build something better than what had been there before. He saw all this, a future he had never even imagined. All his life he had been plagued by visions of violence, destruction and his eventual death. Now in her presence for the first time he saw a vision of the future that held the promise of life. That held hope.

He began to come back to awareness as the figure nearly reached him. His senses snapping him out of the vision of potential future with the easy on long practice as they sensed the approach. It was fortunate they did so. While the figure had been advancing on him rapidly with a long and graceful stride made no less so by the worry and concern on her face at the final approach that grace seemed to desert her.

As she started to ascend the short flight of stairs up to where Night Haunter stood she suddenly managed to trip. Over what was not apparent, possibly her own feet. Her momentum sent her crashing face first towards the short flight of stairs even as her arms pinwheeled around her in an utterly ineffective attempt to regain her balance. Acting on instinct Night Haunter lunged forward to catch her. With superhuman speed the Primarch grabbed her falling form around the shoulders. Taking uncommon care to cushion the burden of her decent and not harm her with his great strength. The woman's fall was arrested barely after it had begun, leaving the woman standing on the steps with the Primarch bent over before her his arms still gently cradling her shoulders with a gentleness he'd had little cause to use in his life, while the woman smiled down into his face.

The smile unnerved the Night Haunter. The cheerfulness, the natively, the true and honest thanks that shone forth from the woman's smile, coupled with a pair of deep blue eyes that were utterly unlike the black orbs universal in Nostramo's population were so wholly outside of his experience that he could only stare back at her in shock. He received a second shock a bare moment later, this one crashing through his body as if it had been struck by lightning as he found the woman's hands were suddenly cradling his face.

Never before had the Night Haunter felt such an intimate touch. Never before had he been in contact with another human when his purpose was not to cause violence. Overcoming the shock of the new sensation he was still trying to determine what to do when the figures face changed.

The gentle smile on her face twisted into a grimace of pain. The blue eyes closed tight and when they opened again tears were forming in their corners to flow unimpeded down her cheeks. Thinking that he was the source of her inexplicable pain Night Haunter attempted to step backwards out of her reach. Where upon he received his third shock of the day as she appeared to effortlessly hold both his head and his entire body fixed in place. Never in all his years had he found someone who could match him physically. Never had he even found anyone that could come close. Yet this woman, who on closer inspection was barely more than a girl, who could not have been more than a third his own weight was doing so with no apparent effort on her part. Night Haunter was still trying to come to terms with this when she spoke.

"Oh, Oh my Brother what has been done to you?" She said as she stared at him with tear filled eyes. And at the moment she said that Night Haunter knew, knew even though the concept was utterly alien to him, that she cried not because she was in pain, but because she could feel his own.

Feelings assaulted Night Haunter. Emotions surged through him that he had never felt before and could put no name too. For several moments he could do nothing more than blink up at her. Finally unable to fully grasp the concepts she conveyed, he spoke his voice hesitant and unsure for perhaps the first time in his life.

"Why… why do you call me Brother?" His voice hoarse from disuse came uncharacteristically unsteady from the shocks to his worldview as his ebon black eyes met hers of sapphire blue.

She smiled gently at him through her tear streaked face. "Because that is what you are. I was there when our Father first gave you and your brother's life. I watched you grow. I remember how excited I was! I was so looking forward to helping you grow up. To show you the world around you and the wonders our father sought to build." Here a look of pain flashed over her face a memory of an old sadness. "But then you were taken from us. Somehow something stole you and your brothers away from us and we could not protect you or prevent it and we have been looking for you ever since."

Her words struck a chord in the Primarch's mind. They triggered a memory, long buried and dormant from the depths of his subconscious mind. A memory that dated back before he had gained true awareness of himself. He remembered growing. Safe and secure. With no other knowledge of his surroundings other than the nineteen other presences that were constantly around him. The feel of their minds like and yet unlike his own. There was also the blazing presence of their father. Vast and powerful that made him feel insignificant in comparison. Yet at the same time he felt drawn to that presence, drawn to the power and the feelings it invoked. But there was one final presence. Unlike their father that blazed in their minds like the Sun, this one was quieter, more subtle. While it lacked that blazing power it gave a feeling of quiet strength that seemed to match their fathers in its own way. It called to them, cradled them in the warmth it emitted suffusing the entirety of their essences. And while at that time he lacked eyes to hear or eyes to see he could remember.

"You sang to us." Spoke the Primarch with conviction as he looked into the woman's blue eyes. "As we grew and developed in the presence of Father you were there as well and you sang in our minds."

Her smile, hesitant and quiet before turned radiant at these words. "You remember!" She exclaimed happily in a tone that belied the age he now knew she must be.

"Who are you?" Asked the Night Haunter quietly

While the intensity of her smile dimmed it widened on her face. "I am Serenity, your elder sister and daughter of the Emperor. Now brother-mine, I can see I am going to teach you proper manners. You are supposed to give your own name before asking for someone else's."

"I am Night Haunter, ruler of Nostramo." He replied neutrally, uncertain how to respond.

Her smile dimmed a little more and the hint of a frown appeared on her face. "No not your title, your name. What do your family, your friends call you?"

"I have no such. Night Haunter is what they started to call me. It is the only name I have ever known. It is who I am." The Primarch's reply was a bare whisper.

"NO!" He looked up shocked both by the vehement denial and at the fierce and serious look on her previously calm face. "No my brother that is not who you are! They call you that for what you have done. By what the visions that have tormented you have made you do. But even then that is not the whole of who you are. Night Haunter is the name of a beast. A name given to a thing of fear. A name they gave to the terror that stalked their nights, even as it brought viciousness to the wicked. But that does not encompass all of you. You have brought fear, but you have also brought justice and justice is not a creation of beasts or even of nature but of man. Only a man can know the meaning of justice and only a man can enforce it. And men have names. So I ask you my brother, what is your name?"

The Primarch could only look up at her in shock. Her slight frame that still held his head in the palms of her hands now seemed to tower over him. Her physical size was unchanged but the presence with which she carried herself seemed to be concentrated, magnified. Her expression had changed. While her features remain the same the impression that they conveyed was completely different. What before was innocent and naive, now seemed regal and wise. The strength that had appeared only as an undercurrent before now shone through her eyes. For the first time in his life the Primarch felt overwhelmed, in the presence of something greater than himself. Disorientated and confused he could only stutter a reply.

"I… I don't know."

Those blue eyes looked into him and even though that gaze was calm and assessing there was also pity and compassion in there. He knew this despite being unfamiliar with those emotions himself.

"Would you like me to give you one?" She finally asked calmly, comfortingly.

Nearly overcome by the revelations and the odd sensations and emotions that all but assaulted him the Primarch could only nod.

Again she stared at him. Her eyes seeming to look into him so deeply it was like she was stripping away the layers that made up his life to expose the very core of his being. Finally after what felt like hours, but was seconds at most she spoke.

"Konrad, ... Konrad Curze" She said with conviction. "Konrad for the hero that fought his way up from Darkness to reach the light (1). Curze because from your earliest days you have labored under a curse that has sought to destroy you. Yet while you may have bent under its weight you have never broken. You have held true to what you know to be right despite all you have seen and all you have suffered. One day you will take that poisoned gift that was to be your greatest weakness and make it into one of your greatest strengths (2). So my brother, do you accept this name and all it entails?"

"Konrad." He tried the name out experimentally, rolling the syllables on his tongue. It felt foreign, different but it also felt right. "KONRAD!" He shouted the words out with new conviction. The sudden explosive sound startled the crowd that had gathered around them and caused the guards attention to snap to him. But Serenity only smiled and laughed delightedly at his enthusiasm.

As he accepted the name into himself he felt it settle over himself like a mantle. This was not a new identity that he accepted. Rather it was himself. A core of his being that he had never been able to put a name to. That core of himself that had first seen the injustice of Nostramo and known that it was wrong. A part that the visions and nightmares had tried to destroy and when they could not do that had tried to twist and pervert but had never completely succeeded in doing so. The Night Haunter would always be a part of him. He would always be familiar with darkness. He would always know how to use fear. But while a part of him it was not all of him. Before he had been the Night Haunter he had been a man and he could now put a name to that man.

"I am Konrad Curze, brother to Serenity, Son of the Emperor of Man." His words while not loud were spoken firmly and with conviction. From where she still stood above him Serenity smiled down with approval.

"Yes you are my Brother and it is time not just for you but for all of Nostramo to rejoin the family of Man. For too long you have labored here in the darkness, now it is time once more for you to stand once more and step into the light."

Konrad Curze looked up at his Sister and despite the lightness to his heart that his name and his newfound sense of self had brought be could not completely dismiss his alarm as he looked up at her with wide eyes.

"Sister, we have lived our whole lives in darkness. We know nothing about the light."

His newfound sister looked down at him her expression once again childish and carefree. A wide happy smile now splitting her face.

"That's alright my brother. That's what I am here to show you. Trust me. You have had to stand on your own for so long. Trust me to help you now until you can walk on your own again."

Konrad Curze looked up into her smiling, reassuring. Felt the awesome power that lurked just beneath its surface and knew in the core of his being that power sought only to protect him and keep him from harm. Overcome by feelings he had never before experienced and stressed beyond anything he had ever been through before in his life he listened to his instincts and placed his life and trust in the hands of the one before him.

And as that the citizens of Nostramo Quintus looked on they beheld a sight they had never imagined in their lives. The sight of their ruler, the legendary vigilante Night Haunter crying as the silver lady from the stars cradled his head to her chest.

{oOo}

Note from the writer:

(1) To find a fitting source of this name I actually went back to one of Games Workshops earliest works. The Konrad trilogy published in 1993 was one of games workshops first books. Reading the final paragraph of the 3rd Novel it just seemed to fit Curze's amended character in the way I sought to portray him really well.

Taken from WarBlade, the 3rd book of the Konrad Trilogy by David Ferring.  
><em>"There could be no such thing as fate. Konrad's future lau entirely within himself, with his own mind and in his own hands. He gazed ahead, and saw countless pairs of red feral eyes staring back at him through the darkness. He was the master of his own life, nothing was preordained – but he had many other battles to fight, other opponents to kill, other conquests to make. Konrad kissed the crosspiece of his warblade, raised the weapon in silent tribute to Sigmar, and then advanced along the tunnel and into the midst of his waiting enemies. His warpsword hacked through their bestial shapes. The shield which may have been his fathers fended off their deadly blows. And Konrad fought his way through the benighted swarms of Chaos, up and beyond and towards the light." <em>

For the sake of the story assume Usagi / Serenity is somehow familiar with it. Given opinions on his ability as a father this could well have been what he considered a suitable bedtime story.

(2)The visions suffered by Konrad Curze appear to have been at least a limited means of seeing the future. For the sake of the story I am assuming that Konrad was born / created with an instinctive ability to see the paths of the future similar to the Eldar Farseers. However without the shielding presence of the Emperor Chaos used this gift to attack his mind. Sending him endless visions that would only lead him down a path of violence madness and eventual treason. In this story Serenity is able to block out the Chaos influence which allows Konrad to see other potential futures for the first time. Eventually she will teach him to do this on his own, after which point he will be able to develop his own gift to see potential paths to the future. In the short term this gives him a reason to stay close to Serenity and gives him a larger potential impact on the wider Imperium in the long term.


	2. Mashadarof402: The Rubicon

{oOo}

There was no light in the room, save for a single yellow wax candle that burned fitfully. No sound, beyond the sonorous chant of a voice lifted in deep prayer. Large enough to house a battle tank, it was still dwarfed by it's sole human occupant, the sparse furnishings seemingly fragile and tiny beside his enormous form. The air was thick with the smell of imported incense, it's fragrance said to calm the mind and bring it peace. Only one being resided in the room, bowed before the spartan altar, clothed in robes woven of his own hair. The vestments of his office, the powered armour of ceramite made possible with wondrous technology, lay forgotten in an unused corner. Carelessly tossed by it's armoured feet lay the sceptre that both proclaimed his exalted rank, crushing the heretic and xeno alike when wielded as an implement of war. Once it would project an aura of barely contained energies, waiting only to be brought upon the unfaithful to unleash it's fury, but now it lay dormant, untouched as his bare hands were clasped together, head bowed as he repeated his litany of salvation for the thousandth time.

"Let my mind be clear, and my heart be strong. I beg for deliverance from the unholy sin of waywardness, expunge my doubts. By my sacrifice and faith, guide my hand and my soul that I may find the correct path."

But the mind was not calm, the heart wavered. Incense and prayer did not clear the hand of doubt that gripped his heart, did not ease his uncertainties. He who had cleansed a world of heresy with unflinching bolter and holy word. He who had brought the heretic and the xeno low to grind beneath his boot and make it's populace devout with faith in the Emperor. His dedication and faith to Him was without peer. And yet, the he found his faith wavering, for the Emperor had not accepted his piety, rejecting it as an unworthy pursuit unbecoming of his vision.

"Deliver unto me the correct path, that my faith may be rewarded with the vision of purpose and light."

The Covenant monks of Colchis had been kind to him, taught him the frailties of the mortal shell and it's soul that only a god could provide succour from. Even as they became ultimately misguided, he kept their teachings, preaching to the masses of the coming salvation that was sure to follow. And salvation had come! In the shell of a human, a god had descended from the skies of Colchis, surrounded by the divine glow of godhood and those of his holy warriors. To his awe, the god taken him as a son and warrior, to spread the divine glories of the Emperor. This he had believed with all his heart and soul. To take the worlds of unbelievers and heretics and show them the error of their ways, stamping out heresy with fire and holy word in a galaxy of ignorance. To bring divine mercy upon the xeno and false worshippers, cleansing them of their sins and casting them before His light. Surely any god, but the Emperor beyond all others, would cherish the tenets of faith, devotion and sacrifice which he preached upon the penitent masses.

How wrong he had been.

The Emperor had called him to account, cast aspersion on his devotions and holy task. There would be no preachers, no purging of the heretic or the cleansing of untruths that false worshippers sought to preserve by he or his legion. Their role was but to take worlds and only then in martial might, their task ended upon it's surrender. They would not be permitted the time to enlighten the unwashed masses to his glory, nor would any others. Only the taking of worlds concerned the Emperor, not of their worship. The irony was palpable. The Bearers of His Word, made to take worlds without crushing the heresy and instilling the faith in them. To become like the drunken gluttons, the Space Wolves that know not of faith and piety, only wanton excess. His Chaplains, His Word that spreads the knowledge of His glory, to become mere warriors like the Ultramarines, their sacrifice and piety forgotten.

Forgotten!

"Purge the heresy from my being, that the unfaithful may not touch my soul."

Now anger thrummed in the voice that chanted, an undercurrent of barely uncontrolled rage that would not have been out of place unrestrained had it been carried by the ever violent Angron, the Primarch of the War Hounds. Had he been deceived, or had he believed falsely? What divine being would reject worship and faith? He could not countenance the impossibility of it all. How could the Emperor, the one he called father, do such a thing? How dared he!

'Open your eyes my liege. You have placed your faith and piety with the Emperor, and he throws it away with barely a thought? Clearly he does not merit your devotion if he thinks so little of it. Perhaps he is not all that he seems.'

How often had he heard that voice, the parting words of his most trusted advisor, the only one to have seen him in this long period of reflection and prayer? It seemed like a thousand years, and each year he had come once, to entreat the mighty primarch to consider that perhaps his faith was misplaced. Once he had angrily rejected his fellow Astartes, thinking that this foolishness was an attempt at assuaging his crisis of faith with cheap thearetics. But now...

'There are true gods Lorgar, true divine beings who's power and wisdom are infinite. They know the value of worship my liege, and for the trifling matter of faith and devotion from those who welcome them, they are not above sharing their gifts. Come, let me tell you about them...'

"Show me the path that I must take, guide my soul to it's proper place."

_**'You know what your proper place is already, son of man, what you must do to reach it.'**_

**'What sacrifices you must provide!'**

**'What gifts you must bestow upon others to show your faith.'**

_'What pleasures you will reap.'_

As always, there was no warning, the words blossoming in his mind as a herald to their titanic presence. The very air in the room itself seemed to still as his back was weighed down by the presence of the four divine beings touching his mind. The red roaring rage that beheld mighty Khorne, the sickly oily sensation upon his mind that was Nurgle, the ghosts of words that heralded Tzeentch lord of change, and the feather-like caress that brought a shiver to his spine belonging only to Slaanesh. Kor Phaeron had once described the experience that would come when the gods spoke to mortals, but paltry words could not subscribe the sensations flooding his every pore. A lesser mortal would have broken under their weight, mind shattered to gibbering horror in a vain attempt to comprehend the mighty beings that thread upon his awareness. But he was of Astartes, a Primarch who stood higher than most mortals. And above all, he was a Word Bearer, a conduit for the divine might and wisdom of a god. He accepted this weight, bore as tears freely fell from his eyes as he felt their attention.

At first they were but words and their presence, knowledge of beings far greater than he and the one he called Emperor would ever be. But now they touched him with their wisdom, showed him visions of purpose and deed that would secure his faith, reward him for his devotions so long as he brought them the worship of willing thralls. He saw entire worlds, trillions of souls raised in glorious prayer and worship of these titanic entities, sacrificing their own flesh and lives to please their divine masters, that they could become closer to them. All this could be his, if he but carried out the work that he had long aspired to continue, to preach to the masses and crush the heretical ways where worship was not absolute. Yes. It was like a heady drug that coursed through his veins that no apothecary could ever match. Yes! This was what he had sought all this while, this divine clarity of purpose and certainty that his soul had thirsted for. What the Emperor did not value, what he had cast aside in an unworthy call to take more worlds while others were left to wither to heresy, this they prized above all else.

And their vision vanished, taken away to leave him grasping at empty air where once the faith of the masses and glories of the gods were celebrated.

Only iron discipline kept him from leaping to his feet, begging for another taste of that vision, the sweetness that came with the promised divinity that flowed in his veins. Iron discipline, and the promise they had left reverberating within his soul. A promise to help make that vision a reality, where worship of the divine was all.

_'For a price.'_

Lorgar was taken aback for a single moment, and then discarded his apprehensions. Whatever price, whatever service these gods would demand of his mortal shell would be a trivial cost for the vision made reality. If the cost would be in blood of the unbeliever spilled, then it would be no different than what he had done heart and soul before. No sooner did the thought form when the price was made known to him. A price of faith, devotion... and sacrifice.

Had he not been kneeling, he would have staggered. Her? Against the Emperor, he felt the righteous anger of the betrayed, but Her? A very small part of his mind railed against the very thought, but the voices of the gods were insistent. One person was a mere drop in the ocean of humanity that he would soon reap in his holy crusade, why stay his hand for this one? And with that they were gone, all save but one that whispered in dulcet tones.

**'Silly mortal, bound by the concepts of flesh and mortality. To consider mindless brutes as worship is so very much like the curmudgeon. There are far better things to offer don't you agree?'**

The room had been heated to levels that even a normal human would find comfortable, but a shiver still ran down his spine as the voice of the divine being set his nerves to tingling.

**'After all, you may find my demands to be quite... flexible.'**

Kor Phaeron was waiting for him when he departed his chambers a day later, once more clad in the gleaming crimson vestments of his powered armour, the sceptre of his station clutched in hand. The Astartes bowed low, arm swept across his chest as the flickers of a knowing smile played upon his lips. Lorgar marvelled at how his trusted lieutenant had always known how things would become, and now he too knew how it was done, mirroring that own smile on his face.

"What news my lord? Have you found the answers you sought?"

"Indeed I have my friend. I owe you my thanks for your sage advice." Lorgar paused, hefting the sceptre in his hands as he considered the flickers of lightning that played across it's surface. It licked at his ceramite encased fingers, dancing across their surface in fitful arcs. It seemed... eager. "How goes our Chaplains work on 47-16?"

An uncertain flick of an eyebrow touched upon Phaeron's face, but was quickly buried as he smiled once more, "quite well my liege. The populace has begun to accept the teachings of worship and now work to build cathedrals in the Emperor's name."

"No more Kor Phaeron. No more. The error of my ways are clear to me now." He placed a hand on the shoulder of his lieutenant, and this time, the smile was one of exultation. "We shall not waste anymore of our time on unbelieving fools and the unworthy. Especially those who place their faith in faithless Emperors. You have always been a servant of theirs have you not Phaeron?"

There was no need for him to mention who 'they' were. The Astartes only smirked by way of reply.

"Then take your company, and cleanse this world of our error, my Master of the Faith." Phaeron lifted an eyebrow at his sudden promotion, "For when you are done, it shall fall upon you to educate our brothers as you have me in the the gods that we should serve."

The new Master of the Faith drew himself to his full height, banging a fist across his chest as he glowed with pride. "It shall be my honour my lord."

Lorgar watched him go, knowing that of the coming scourge of 47-16, only the most faithful, the most devout, and only those who already knew of the glories of the Immaterium gods would be permitted rest would soon learn of the futility of praying to a false god who did not deserve their worship. It would be the first of steps, one of many he would have to take to show his faith, but each one crucial to his designs.

For it would be from a position of strength, with billions of fresh souls dedicated to the lords of Chaos, that he would bring low the false god and step unto that divine pantheon.

Sanctified by the sacrificed soul of His daughter.

{oOo}


End file.
